Two partners. No associates. No apologies.
The firm has declined every merger, every lateral hire, and every attempt at petting during business hours.
Called to the bar in 2026, having jumped onto it, Fia has since assembled the most feared stare in feline litigation. She prepares each case in total silence from the top of the bookshelf, descending only when the argument is complete and the opposing party is visibly uncomfortable. She has never lost a staring contest with opposing counsel, and has never acknowledged winning one either.
Clients describe her as “present, eventually” and “worth the wait.” She accepts new matters on the first Tuesday of a month in which she feels like it.
Coco litigates exclusively between 5:00 and 5:15 a.m., a window he describes as “when the truth is awake.” He did not attend law school; the law came to him. As Managing Partner he oversees the firm’s operations, its billing, and the strategic relocation of objects that were, in his professional judgment, too close to the edge anyway.
He sleeps in fourteen-hour increments and bills in fifteen-minute ones. The arithmetic favours the firm. He is aware.